


Mischievous Misconceptions

by Sparcina



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Jack is his usual sex-obsessed self, Rose has telepathic abilities, Rose knows what she wants, Season 2 - Canon Divergence, The Doctor is his usual daft but cute self, The Doctor is still licking things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose's thoughts unexpectedly reach the Doctor at an awkward moment (or what happens when you think too loud and a Time Lord is listening).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On Her Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rointheta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rointheta/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if the Doctor's confusing "I just want a mate!" to Donna in Season 4 had been said to Rose instead? Resolved Rose/Conflicted 10th Doctor. 

Rose slammed the door to her room.

"Sorry." She breathed out through clenched teeth, lifting a hand to the vibrant wall of a sadly humming TARDIS. "Didn't mean to take off my frustration on you."

With a heavy sigh, she went to her bed and sank head first into the flower scented sheets. This trip to the year five billion and twenty-three, on the apparently paradisiacal planet of New Earth—and 'apparently' was the morsel of choice here—, where she had ended up hosting Cassandra, had been infuriating for more than one reason.

"Where to start?" Rose mumbled in her pillow. "Oh, could it be the fact that some cats decided to imprison humans and experiment with all sort of illnesses on them? Or maybe that the Face of Boe didn't deliver its bloody message, which is the reason we went to this planet in the first place? No, wait…"

Teeth clenched, she grabbed her pillow as in an effort to squeeze all feathers of out it and dug her chin in the soft swell.

"Ah, there's also this bloody  _trampoline_  who kissed the Doctor in  _my_  body!"

She pictured the Empire of the Daleks broken down to its kitchen and bathroom parts dancing hippy songs of respect and acceptance around a fire camp, but it didn't help damper her anger. An alien—to call her 'the last human' amounted to a joke—had coerced her body into kissing the Doctor!

Oh, she didn't mind kissing that wondrous alien, not one bit; actually, she wished she could do a lot more, that  _he_  would want to accompany her down that particular path, but in the meanwhile, for all her patience and care, why in hell would their first kiss be without her?! A moan of dismay was poured up her throat, as if some remnants of Cassandra struggled to be thrown out.

"That is  _so_  unfair," she groaned in the pillow, fisting her hands in the golden sheets the TARDIS had chosen for her.

A low hum reverberated through the walls, rubbing circles on her back as pictures of her past flooded her mind. "You're right, of course. He did kiss me once... but that was only to keep the vortex from overwhelming me!"

 _Only to have him overwhelm me._ The TARDIS chimed in her mind, as if to confirm the Doctor was being his usual daft self. Rose exhaled in relief. Her connection to the ship had grown stronger since she had looked into its heart. In the—relative—intimacy of her room, she had gotten used to converse with the TARDIS, and although they could communicate well enough using mental pictures and words, she still liked to voice her thoughts once in a while.

_Reminds me I'm human, I guess. That and..._

With a self-depreciative groan, she reached for the cache under the mattress, where her too curious Doctor wouldn't look, theoretically, when he burst into her room without knocking.

 _Her_ Doctor.  _I wish!_

Lids half-closed and breathing speeding up, she wrapped her fingers around the slick black dildo and clenched it against her breast.

She had no idea how he looked, down there, if it would be human at all; but unless he decided to reciprocate her feelings—and her urges—it would not matter, and her toy would have to do. It was a pale compensation for what she coveted, but 51st century sex toys were still the  _nec plus ultra_  in ways of variety and prowess, according to Jack, and to her too, now.

_I really need a bath first._

Hiding the black toy under her Rose-handled pillow, she got rid of her dirty clothes in quick jerks and crossed her room to the bathroom, where a hot bath laced with scented oils awaited her. With a grateful mental hug to the TARDIS, she closed the door—one could never be too careful with a spontaneous alien roaming around—and sat down into the warm cocoon, where hopefully any lingering trampoline-related tempering would evaporate with the pretty pink bubbles founding her landscape.

As she began to relax, head leant back on a plump pink pillow, she revisited the events of the day. The Doctor and she had saved numerous human guinea pigs and prevented a large-scale apocalypse—again. That was good. The Doctor had been overly enthusiastic and determinate, which was good as well.

_Too bad he doesn't feel the same way about love. Or sex._

She chided herself for those very humane and immature thoughts, but she couldn't help herself. The kiss Cassandra had forced on them would have been bad enough on its own—because of the 'forced' aspect, of course—but added to the damning words the Doctor had uttered last week, all flushed and panicked, it was not merely the cherry on the sundae anymore, but a whole infantry of pretty round red fruits crashing down the ice cream.

 _I just want a mate, Rose!_  And fool as she was, she had heard a preposition instead of an article, a  _to_ instead of an  _a,_ which had resulted in a lot of babbling on the Doctor's part, and red cheeks for her—really, her face had felt so warm those traitorous cheeks couldn't have been a mere pink anymore. As every awkward exchange between them, this one had ended with the Doctor rushing to the galley in tinkering mode, a banana in one hand and his screwdriver in the other, and Rose heading back to her room and slamming the door. The predictability of her own desire and his avoidance resembled more and more a loop in the fabric of time and space.

Oh, she loved the Doctor, she did with the whole of her lone heart. There was no place for any other man in its ventricles and aortae, no yearn to fill its empty echoes with other genuine grins, sure hands, and shiny eyes. She was the Doctor's, whether he liked it or not, his companion, fellow traveler, mate in the most platonic sense—she was a constant reminder he wasn't alone, an extension of the TARDIS.

He didn't need to know about the true nature of said extension, however.

It would only make him worry.

He would regret their only real kiss. He would...

_Oh Doctor..._

She couldn't even begin to imagine the weight of almost a thousand years of life, let alone the monstrous guilt chocking him since the destruction of Gallifrey and all his people. If only she knew how to lighten his burden, she would. She had tried many times to get him to talk, going for the relaxed environment of a delicious meal after a long journey, or in-between adventures, when they were hiding in a closet or a tree trunk waiting for a plan to pop, but he just wouldn't talk, and as it was becoming obvious to her, she could offer him nothing: no comfort, no kisses, no snuggling, no bed and nightmare sharing, no love.

Nothing.

 _I miss you, I love you._ To her, it seemed as though only the slow-burning stars heard her oath.

*

She had almost lost him—to the hands of Satan, this time. Chest still heaving with muffled sobs, she closed the door behind her, softly, for a change. She felt drained to the bone, and the exulting Doctor busy with his console wasn't a sight she wanted to damage with her distress.

The TARDIS understood her, at least.

Rose splayed her hands on the wall and leant her brow against it. With as much of her body in contact with her friend as possible, she expressed all her dread and relief, acknowledged her stupid expectations and how, today like yesterday, she felt torn between her desire to be who the Doctor wanted her to be, and who she longed to be for him.

A drop of wetness trailed down her throat, cold against her burning skin. She fell to her knees and let the TARDIS soothe her with voluptuous lullabies, so beautiful in her human inability to understand the sumptuous voices veiled with magical instruments that sounded like voices—unless it was the other way around? Golden tendrils of hope and affection coiled around her dizzy mind, so tangible in their comfort she could have sworn they enveloped her body as well.

"Time to go to bed, Rose," she chanted to herself.

Once in the perfumed blankets, though, sleep eluded her. For the best part of the next hour, she turned back and forth in her bed, remembering their many adventures to lose foot with reality, but the reminiscence only served to emphasize how the Doctor didn't want her.

After a second hour of tossing and turning in her tangled sheets, Rose swore under her breath and reached for the toy under her mattress.

The TARDIS receded in her mind, letting her alone to care for her body's needs. Rose sent her a mental friendly pat and settled on her back, one pillow propped under her knees. In no time at all, she was wet and aching, the sleek shape of her fantasized Doctor sliding behind her legs with painful ease.

 _That is what longing does to you_ , she mused as flashes of a completely dressed in a pinstriped suit but moaning Doctor swirled in her mind, mingling with less decent dreams of getting on her knees and swallowing all his alien bits while he tried to work on the console. She didn't care what said bits looked like; she knew they would be beautiful and savory to her, and that was all that mattered.

_Doctor..._

She normally tried not to think his name when she played with herself, afraid her telepathic link to the TARDIS would somehow call to him as well—heaven knew she wished for such a connection, but she was also certain that on his side, it would be the best motivation to run away for good.

Tonight, however, or whatever time it was in the vortex, she wasn't thinking clearly, and certainly too loud. As she imagined the Doctor fucking her mouth with abandon, she pushed the dildo deeper and harder in her center, rubbing at the swollen bud of nerves with her other hand, and in her mind, screaming the name of her beloved, begging him to thrust-

"Rose, I heard you calling me, is everything all ri-"

Her orgasm took her at the exact moment the Doctor burst through the door.

 


	2. Face to Face

At first, Rose could only stare. She had frozen on the highest wave of her stormy release, her sweaty body shivering, one hand tight on the toy buried deep inside her and the other covering her clit.

Then she opened her mouth. Shocked. Dazzled. She knew what she looked like, because the Doctor too had his jaws dropped, and his eyebrows so high on his forehead they touched his carefully arranged hair.

The wave crashed with her unaware. Rose tried to stifle her scream, but pleasure escaped her mouth in a strange plea of rapture, shame, and submission. She turned her darkest shade of red to this day and arched her back as the ecstasy revamped her from the inside out. She was so, so, so very ashamed...

"Doctor," she rasped while trying to cover herself, which wasn't an easy task in her state, "I didn't call you, I'm sorry, 's ok, I was just, thinking, y'know, and..."

Pupils blown wide and mouth forming a double O—was such a thing even possible?—the Doctor stepped backward, only to stumble and trip. He fell so ungracefully, limbs all tangled up, that he reminded her of the time after his most recent reincarnation. Right now, however, she wasn't amused in the slightest; she wanted to bury herself kilometers down, or better yet, in an unreachable galaxy, preferably past the event horizon of a black hole, with her heart burnt up in a parallel universe so she wouldn't need to feel it breaking again, should she ever survive her fall in nothingness...

"Rose."

_He's going to get rid of me now, he has seen me and heard me and he must understand what it means, even if he can be thick as hell when he wants to..._

"Rose."

The Doctor was back on his feet. From the spider web after a hurricane, he had morphed into the spider itself, body primed to move, fast, and eyes set on the naked woman offered to his sight—only for his. A feast. That was the musing behind his hooded eyes, and his flared nostrils and accelerated breath.

 _For someone with a respiratory bypass system, he's not doing well_ , Rose thought, amazed at his reaction. He isn't running? He really isn't? She noticed her right hand had grabbed the sheet and was trying to cover her up, and stilled. It wouldn't do to frighten the Doctor with hesitation; they were on twin roads of the same path—she only needed to invite him over, so near now, so excruciatingly near... She would fly and fall for him.

"Oh, Rose..." The Doctor's voice sounded pained. "Why didn't you tell me you had telepathic abilities?"

Rose shuddered, hit by shards of cold anticipation. She spoke faster than she could think. "Would it have made a difference, Doctor?"

"Yes." Three letters carved in heat.

He inched closer to the bed, to her naked self. A rain of shivers covered her skin, so strong and powerful she felt like she was drowning.

"Watcha you doing, Doctor?"

He didn't answer immediately; instead, he sat down beside her, close enough to excite all her nerve endings, but outside touching distance.

She forgot about her shyness. How could she think about anything when that maddening alien, who had showed her Dickens, the reams of the past and the cities of the future, didn't run away at the moment she expected him to the most?

The Doctor set a hand on the mattress, dangerously close to her arm.

"I never thought I would settle down, Rose, not until I..." He sighed and averted his eyes, gifting her with this mouth-watering patrician profile, complete with the nose she dreamed of nudging with her own. "I thought you were still shocked by the kiss when Cassandra-"

"Of course I was, and that's because I wasn't the one to kiss you!"

Surprised by her vehement outburst, Rose snapped her mouth shut. The Doctor smiled at her, but when he inhaled, his affectionate expression turned into features of rapture, darkened by a tangible hunger that made her wet all over again.

Black eyes. Deep desire.

 _Superior alien physiology. Crap!_  This time, she spoke so fast nobody but a Time Lord fluent with ravening humans would have understood her.

"Do you mean to say you maybe perhaps at some point attracted to me, Doctor?"

He leaned over her, as if to kiss her, but his lips stopped mere inches from her own.

"Of course I am, you silly girl," he crooned, his little finger brushing her forearm. His eyes twinkled, full of hope and promises. Rose wanted to cry. "And I... I love you, Rose. I wanted to tell you for a while, but first I had to be sure you loved me too."

Rose squirmed and, before she could give in to the fear of rejection, captured the Doctor's hand. Eyes steady on her—black eyes, so dark—, he brought their clasped hands to his mouth and graced her wrist with the lightest kiss. Rose held her breath. How could she convince him that she did love him?

"Sex is hardly a proof of love," she whispered hesitantly, "but I swear I... I do love you, Doctor, with..." She let out a frustrated sigh. "What could I say or do that would convince you?"

She looked up at him, all her feelings stretching wide in her eyes. She was bared to him, in more than one way.

He cupped her cheek, his gentle smile unwavering. "I said I 'had' to make sure, Rose, not 'have'... When you... called my name earlier... I felt it, Rose. Through the link," he whispered, a thumb caressing the flushed skin. "I felt your love for me, and how you would... use that...", he cleared his throat, "...toy because you thought I needed time. Time, Rose."

The dildo, still set deep into her, felt suddenly bigger. When the Doctor's eyes trailed down her belly and focused at the apex of her thighs, she could have sworn all her blood evaporated. Surely she would spontaneously combust any minute, now.

The cool hand on her cheek tensed, fingertips digging lightly into her skin. Unconsciously, she darted her tongue and wetted her lower lip, which dragged the Doctor's gaze right to her mouth. He looked definitively predatory at this instant, not unlike the Lord's part of his name—the Time's part, she perceived it pulsing between them, tangible in its myriad of admirable possibilities.

She arched her back to get near him. She needed him—every electron and every quark of every proton and neutron of every atom of every cell of her fiery being wanted him.

A single bead of water trailed down her cheek.

"Oh, Rose…"

The moment the Doctor hugged her, she burst into tears. His two hearts beat frantically against her own, prompting a symphony unheard of in the universe to this day, all times confounded.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Rose, I'm so-"

Rose hummed in the crook of his neck, drowning quite willingly in his unique scent.

"Doctor. My Doctor…" She laughed between tears.

"Yes."

He planted a feather light kiss on her forehead, then mouthed his devotion on her jaw, at the corner of her mouth, on her chin. He too was drowning in her taste, in everything she incarnated for him in her sublime humanity.

"But, but," Rose mumbled, air leaving her lungs in a rush, "you say you wanted  _a_  mate, not  _to_  mate..."

"I do want a mate." On those worrying words, the Doctor continued his minute exploration of her throat, making it difficult for Rose to puzzle together syntax and grammar. Who had said that the English language was easy?

"But a mate… isn't it like… I don't know… just a friend?"

"May I?"

The Doctor smiled gently at her—affectionately, but with a hint of some darker emotion, a burning desire simmering just under the black pools of his eyes—and waited for her answer.

 _What was the question?_ Rose thought, the gears in her head working furiously.  _Are we even having the same conversation?_

But she did what she always did when she didn't understand what the Doctor wanted: she obeyed.

"My Rose…"

She held her breath when he lifted her hand to his mouth—the one she had fingered herself with, she noticed in a daze—and licked every digit.

Thoroughly.

The sight of her Doctor savoring her arousal was too much to bear—she let out a strangled moan and turned on her side, tremendously turned on. The Doctor set on to kiss her wrist, intent on covering every inch of bared skin with the same reverence.

"A mate is a companion... but one doesn't exclude the other, Rose." His voice had gone down an octave. If syllables could have been erotic and filthy, those would be the model  _par excellence_. "I  _do_ want  _to_ mate, Rose. With you, that is." Then he sighed. She looked into his eyes, fascinated at how far up he had come from the abyss of despair.

 _Oh, my Doctor_. She took his right hand and began to suck on his fingers.

"Blimey," the Doctor gasped, eyelids fluttering, "that's one conversation I was looking forward to be done wi-"

The dildo forgotten in her aching core, Rose pulled at the Doctor's shirt and shut him up with a kiss.

It may not be their first kiss, but it was the first time Rose could experience it as herself—not as an updated human with the power of Time, and not as the plaything of a bitchy trampoline.

Her brain shut down as their mouths sealed in blissful sincerity. She hadn't mind licking his fingers, but exploring his mouth beat anything any day of the week, forward or backward in time.

He tasted like mint and banana and spices—her favorite brand of Time Lord. When she darted out her tongue to lick his lower lip, intent of getting as much of him into her as possible, she discovered he could do the most arousing moans. She catalogued it along the texture of his fingers on her shoulders and the way his lips molded onto hers.

 _Or that might be what he is doing_ , she mused.  _Could our thoughts be mixing?_  She didn't stop to dissect the question and kissed the Doctor—her Doctor!—with renewed passion, the dildo all but forgotten between her trembling thighs.

"Rose…" the Doctor gasped as she broke the kiss to breathe in. "Rose…"

Never before had her name sounded like music.

"Please kiss me, Doctor."

He didn't need to be told twice, apparently: circling her back with tensed arms, he threw a leg over one naked thigh and half-straddled her as he plucked back her lips with the fascination of the most devoted gardener.

Rose breathed rapture back in his hot mouth. Her fingers couldn't seem to stay idle, digging into the Doctor's back, tugging at his tie and front, caressing feverishly his sides. If she could have fused with him—literally, as in two atoms binding their electrons—, she wouldn't have hesitated. Desire trashed about in her poor human body. The Doctor. She had a Time Lord on her lap, kissing her with all he was worth, which happened to be a lot, and still it seemed unreal. She needed more. She needed him, deep down and all consuming.

The Doctor seemed to have reached the same conclusion. Leaving a trail of kisses down Rose's throat, he guided her to the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor. She gasped in joy at the feel of his tongue on her collarbone. He was in the process of conquering her breasts when she felt him still.

"Doctor?" she asked breathless. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes were set on the black intruder between her legs.

 _Oh_.

The comic look on his face as he glared at the dildo—anger at a mere object, really!—carved a smile on her lips. When he raised his eyebrows at her, a hint of uncertainty floating in his maddeningly gorgeous eyes, she finally let go.

And laughed. She laughed so hard tears flooded her cheeks. The more the Doctor looked lost, the more she laughed. When he settled for a hurt expression, she managed to calm down a bit.

"I'm so-sorry, didn't mean to laugh at you," she hiccupped, smiling broadly, but she really couldn't help it. "You can't-can't be jealous of a t-toy-"

"Indeed I can't." To Rose's surprise, considering the reasonable four words, the Doctor's anger boiled up instead of fraying. "But I  _can_ envy the man that provided it."

 _Oh,_ Rose thought for a second time, clearly at a loss for synonyms. Her eyes grew as wide as alien's space ships—at least her version of them before she had met the Doctor. Those little green men... They were really nothing beside bitchy trampolines, Satan, ex con men, clockwork robots, Time Lords...

Ex con men. She squirmed uneasily in her bed. The Doctor's scorching gaze on her, ablaze with searing desire, did not help alleviate the guilt.

_But I don't have anything to fell guilty about!_

Did she, now?

It had been Jack's idea. But then, party and sex related plans were often Jack's ideas—like 101% of the time.

"I swear you won't complain of a boring dildo again, Rose."

Rose tried not to flush and failed lamentably. She should have been used to Jack's forwardness in the domain of pleasure and reproduction by now, but he had this way of making it sound really personal.

"I wasn't complaining," she muttered under her breath, taking in the flashy signs and colorful crowd heating up the artificial stratosphere of Piskure.

"Sure you weren't." As if this mystic answer wasn't enough, Jack had to wink. Concentrating on the ugly man ogling her to regain her composure, Rose followed her indecent friend across the street.

She really hadn't complained. For six months, she had had this cache in her room on the TARDIS, where she hid the whole of her 'artificial pleasure' collection—four dildos, of which three were out of batteries. Unable to go back to Earth over the last ten days because of overleaping adventures, Rose had tried for meditation, but it really wasn't her cup of tea.

Jack had taken one look at her and decided they needed to go shopping. The Doctor, presuming she needed some fashionable new clothes, had wished her a good trip and warned Jack to keep an eye of her.

 _Wasn't that a look of possessiveness in his eyes?_ Rose mused. She quickly dislodged the idea of its pedestal.  _Don't get your hopes up, Rose_.

The interior mall was huge. Jack didn't even glance at the holographic tri-dimensional map and guided her through groups of aliens, some human-looking, some vaguely humanoids, and some so far away from the concept she couldn't tell where was the head and where was the rear.

 _Probably better this way_.

"Here we go!" Jack exclaimed, rubbing his hands in obvious satisfaction. "Choose wisely, Rose…"

The Doctor nodded slowly. He was still watching the black toy with a strange expression, but at least he didn't look like he would go on a Jack-punishing-spree anymore.

Watching. Her. There. Rose bit her lip.

"That's a lot of attention you've giving me, Doctor," she whispered

"Is it?"

Without warning, he removed the dildo in one fluid motion—she  _was_ wet, after all—and sniffed the tip before licking it. Rose wasn't sure how to react when he grimaced.

"I've always hated the taste of silicone," he commented nonchalantly with a reassuring smile, looking up at her.

"And how would you-"

Rose interrupted herself. The answer was obvious: with his habit to lick every surface unimaginable, was there anything he hadn't tasted?

Apparently yes. She couldn't seem to move under his scrutinizing gaze. Dark scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes?" she squealed.

The Doctor licked his lower lip and passed a hand through his hair, messing them up in the cutest fashion.

 _No, not cute_ , she corrected as his thoughtful expression molded into need. He was still on his knees, face level to her thighs and what lay in-between.  _Dangerously seductive would be more accurate_.

His nostrils flared.

"I really…" he took a deep breath. "I really, really want you, Rose, but more than that, I… would like to make you come."

"Oh. Ok."

The Doctor caressed her knees with his calloused thumbs, nudging her legs open.

"Like now."

"Oh." The broken record again. "Ok."

When his lips locked on her core, all thoughts of trampolines and devils were forgotten. The dildo was forgotten. Jack and his plans, every human and alien in the rainbow of possible universes were down a black hole. For Rose, the world had suddenly shrunk to encompass the two of them, leaving only the stars and their burning auras to conceive. She arched her back with a cry of abandon and closed her hands into fists.

That was how he made her feel: wrapped in nebulas and supernovas.

"Doctor…"

He was lapping at her eagerly, honoring every heated part of her with the same appetite and attention. Open-mouthed kisses followed honest licks, and when Rose thought she was going to come from the mere sight of his enthusiasm, he dipped one agile finger into her core and began pumping it in languid strokes. She fisted a hand in his hair.

"Doctor!"

His chin was shiny with her arousal. He settled his chin on her belly and gazed up at her, licking his lips. A second finger joined the first.

"My lovely Rose…"

A tremor shot up her spine. Her left leg began to tremble. She was very, very close now. How could he brush her G-spot at every turn, with the right amount of pressure it had taken her months to discover? He looked at her with his knowing eyes, his dark, beautiful eyes, as he settled a third finger in her liquid core.

"I love you, Rose."

And she felt it, too. In her head and in her heart. She seized up as tidal waves of pleasure rushed through her over-excited body. For one moment, she couldn't seem to breathe anymore, as if she the need had vanished. She trembled and trashed and cried, and the Doctor didn't stop, only slowed the place. Her ever gentle, caring Doctor… He kissed his way up to her mouth unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world, and more.


End file.
